


to become myself in front of you

by freelancestargazing



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, First Kiss, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24920995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freelancestargazing/pseuds/freelancestargazing
Summary: The light was bright and hot, but that wasn’t what made Merlin turn it down. It was the shout behind him, followed a frighteningly familiar voice that said “By the Gods,Merlin, are you trying to blow us up?”He should’ve known he would reveal his magic by almost blowing the Prince up because he couldn’t handle his emotions.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 561





	to become myself in front of you

As he stared down the mouth of the cave, Merlin knew that it was a monumentally stupid idea, even more so than his usual stupid ideas. On his own, one bag on his back, a single sword in his hand, with only his wits and his magic to help him. No one knew where he’d gone, although he was sure Gaius would figure it out eventually, if he failed to show his face in the morning. If this was the stupid idea that got him killed. 

It shouldn’t. By all rights, everything should go wonderfully smoothly, and he’d have panicked for nothing. But staring down the mouth of the cave, darkly shadowed despite the magelights floating around him, he wondered if he was overestimating his talents. 

There wasn’t really anything else for it, at this point. With a deep breath (and another, and a third for good luck) he stepped into the depths of the dragon’s cave. 

It had been an unusually average day in Camelot (meaning no one had yet tried to kill the Prince, so Merlin should have known some other unfortunate thing would happen) when he’d heard of the dragon through the servants’ grapevine. Farmers from an outlying village had come for an audience with the King, and hadn’t hesitated to tell everyone who’d listen about the beast from the mountains with scales of midnight and hellfire breath, how it had torn through their houses and livestock and crops. It had taken Merlin the better part of the morning to gather the whole story, from the many over-dramatised fragments. 

Finally, a young girl had shyly admitted that her father had been exaggerating, that their houses were slightly singed and their crops a bit windblown. Livestock _had_ been taken, she’d added eagerly, but not so many that the village might starve. Just enough for a _not-that-big-at-all-really_ -sized dragon to live on. She’d whispered about wanting to see the towers of Camelot just once, just to see if the stories of its grandeur were true, and Merlin hadn’t been able to be upset about it. 

Still, it was rather inconvenient, as Uther’s response was rather predictably to order Arthur and the knights to “Track the beast down and kill it! I will not be bested by an overgrown lizard!” 

Arthur had nodded his head stoically, in that princely way of his that looked very brave to everyone in court except Merlin, who knew he was going to have to listen to the Prince complain about the task because “Surely, Merlin, they’re exaggerating, everyone knows dragons are extinct, the last one was killed months ago. By me!” and Merlin had to hold back his comments about _that_ since Arthur had not shut up about it since. Never mind that he freely admitted (to Merlin only) that he couldn’t for the life of him remember delivering the killing blow, everyone across the kingdom and their long lost uncle knew that the great Arthur Pendragon had slain the last ever dragon. 

But in true Arthur fashion, he’d gathered his knights, given them a rousing speech about refusing to relinquish their home to evil monsters, and decided firmly to set out at first light. Merlin was to be up early to gather Arthur’s things and saddle the horses, but he was certain to be late now. After that meeting Merlin had gone to Gaius, said rather firmly “I’m going to save that dragon,” to which Gaius replied “Don’t be daft, you’re not going to do a thing,” and given him his favourite soup in a very obvious bribe. 

Merlin wouldn’t be Merlin if he was so easily seduced from stupid ideas, however, and so he walked into the darkened cave with only his magic lights to see by, sword held protectively in front of him. Arthur might think him a terrible swordsman, and he wasn’t entirely wrong, but given how much trouble Arthur got into on an hourly basis, Merlin had had to pick up the talent whether he felt like it or not. Magicking falling branches every time they went hunting and were inevitably attacked could only work for so long. 

Not that this was a hunt. Merlin didn’t want to kill the dragon, of course he didn’t. As soon as he heard about it, a fierce surge of protectiveness had risen within him, and he’d known instantly that he had to get to it before Arthur and the knights. He didn’t want to be caught between Arthur and a dragon again, because it was the first time his loyalty had been equally torn. He felt fairly certain that he’d still choose Arthur, as he would choose Arthur for everything (and that’s not really something to be thinking about right now since he’s technically betraying Arthur in the same breath), but he’d feel terrible about it, and so figured it would be easier to just urge the dragon on to somewhere less conspicuous. 

Of course, he didn’t count on this suffocating blanket of shadows that was definitely magic induced, because no normal shadow could withstand a magelight, especially not four of them from a reasonably powerful warlock like Merlin. When he swished his sword forward searchingly, it felt as though he were cutting through fabric rather than air, like he was wading through a literal blanket. 

He wondered if maybe another sorcerer had gotten there before him, then, and tried to conceal the dragon’s presence. Or if they were keeping out potential competition to keep the dragon for themselves. That thought made Merlin’s blood boil, and without thinking he brightened his magelights to something like sunshine, shearing through the shadow like a bull through a fence. Or a dragon through stone walls. 

The light was bright and hot, but that wasn’t what made Merlin turn it down. It was the shout behind him, followed a frighteningly familiar voice that said “By the Gods, _Mer_ lin, are you trying to blow us up?” 

Merlin spun around, sword swinging wildly only to be deflected and brought low by another blade, held by hands that Merlin would know blind. Right now he very nearly was blind, after the flash of light so quickly dimmed, but he could still see Arthur, light hunting leathers thrown hurriedly over his sleeping clothes, displeased scowl marred by the almost fond way he looked at Merlin. It was the face that followed remarks on Merlin’s idiocy, said with a laugh and a shove that always told Merlin he wasn’t actually in trouble. Normally it would be comforting, but Merlin was shaking too hard to remember that. 

“What the _hell_ are you _doing_ here, Arthur?” Merlin exclaimed, wincing at the shrill tone that entered his voice, although he felt that he deserved to be a little shrill. He had, after all, just inadvertently revealed himself as a warlock to Arthur, son of Uther and Crown Prince of Camelot, _and_ led Arthur directly to the dragon (whether Arthur knew that or not, Merlin wasn’t sure yet, but considering the events of the day he wouldn’t be surprised). Arthur hadn’t attacked him, though, hadn’t run him through at first opportunity, and who knew how long he’d been following. Long enough to see Merlin conjure four little balls of light, and to hear the spell that led him to the cave, surely. Maybe Arthur was waiting to drag him back to Camelot and throw him at Uther’s feet after the dragon was dead, as he had in many of Merlin’s nightmares. During waking hours, Merlin sometimes convinced himself that Arthur would be okay with the magic, but his dreaming mind seemed to think otherwise. 

Arthur’s face dropped a little, fondness replaced by exasperated anger. “I’m following _you_ , idiot,” he snapped, “what the hell are _you_ doing here? Hunting a dragon on your own, that’s monumentally stupid, even for you.” 

At another time, Merlin might have found it both amusing and endearing that Arthur managed to echo his own thoughts, but he couldn’t think about that now. “I am not _hunting_ it,” Merlin said, squaring his shoulders and rising to his full height (a few inches taller than Arthur, but that had never intimidated the Prince before). If Arthur wanted to kill Merlin, fine, he could deal, but he would not lose another dragon. He’d be a terrible dragonlord if he did. 

“I see, this is a rescue mission,” Arthur said, and Merlin bristled at his tone. This was the less-fond version of his Merlin’s-an-idiot-God-help-us-all voice, and was always accompanied by that royal condescension he hadn’t quite grown out of. “Well, consider the mission cancelled. I know you are rather fond of strange and magical creatures, but you must know I can’t just let the beast go. It destroyed a village, _Mer_ lin, it’s hardly another unicorn.” 

Life just wasn’t fair, Merlin thought distantly. He must’ve been a terrible person in a past life, to have to deal with all of this crap. Arthur was acting like everything was normal, like he hadn’t just caught Merlin with two of the biggest secrets he had in the middle of a bloody dragon cave (the third biggest would remain buried deep, deep down, where hopefully Arthur could never find it, because if by some miracle magic didn’t get him killed or banished, then this one surely would), and Merlin felt like he deserved better than this. Much like his magic taking control without his permission, his mouth started spilling words before he registered what to say. 

“It did _not_ destroy a village, that man was _exaggerating_ , his daughter told me so herself, and I _know_ she was telling the truth, and I can’t just let you kill an innocent creature that was only trying to feed itself, but you never _listen to me_ when I tell you these things, so I wanted to save you the trouble and do it myself, but now you’ve followed me out here and probably want me dead too, which is fine honestly, I understand, but I am going to _save this dragon_ if it’s the last thing I do, so please do not try and stop me, because we both know you can’t.” 

Arthur pouted. “I listen to you,” he said petulantly, “you can hardly blame me when you decide not to tell me things.” 

“ _That’s_ what you got from that?” Merlin gaped. 

“We’ll have plenty of time to discuss the rest later.” Arthur waved his hand, as if to physically brush all the drama to a future point in time, then sheathed his sword and looked at Merlin expectantly. “Well?” he said when Merlin did nothing but continue to stare. “Are we going to rescue this dragon or not?” 

“You’re not going to ask me about the…” Merlin trailed off, suddenly unsure. Could Arthur really be so oblivious that he doesn’t — 

The thought was cut off by Arthur scoffing. “No need. I’ve known about your magic for months. You’re hardly the best secret keeper in the kingdom, _Mer_ lin.” 

“Months?” Merlin repeated, feeling a bit light-headed. 

“Since you killed the Great Dragon.” 

“Since I…” 

Arthur was grinning smugly, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in challenge, and Merlin gasped in outrage. “You mean you’ve been boasting to _every bloody person you met_ knowing you didn’t do _anything_? You’ve forced me to sit through every _possible_ iteration of a battle you _don’t actually remember_ knowing that I knew the truth?” 

“I wondered how long it would take you to finally break down and confess,” Arthur admitted, looking absolutely delighted. “I almost felt bad when we went to see Princess Clarissa, but your expression every time was priceless.” 

The trip to see Princess Clarissa had been excruciating because said Princess was infatuated with the supposed dragon slayer Prince, and wanted to hear the story a thousand times over, every little detail from every point of view. Merlin didn’t like enacting violence against those who didn’t deserve it, but he was ready to strangle the Princess by the time they finally got to leave. 

He wondered if he should mention that the dragon was actually still alive, somewhere far away (hopefully), and probably still bubbling with rage. But Arthur seemed surprisingly pleased, all things considered, so he decided that was a conversation for another time. 

“So you aren’t mad about the magic?” Merlin asked tentatively. “Or the fact that I’m a dragonlord?” 

“I was absolutely furious,” Arthur said, smile dropping again. There was an echo of that anger on his face, and something like grief too, which Merlin decided to ignore for the sake of his sanity. “I kept wondering how you could lie to me, betray me like this, after everything we’ve been through together. But I’ve been watching you a long time, Merlin, and I know what’s in your heart. It is not the corruption that my father believes all magic to have, but something rather like the courage and loyalty of a knight, and that is not something I can despise you for.” 

It would never stop shaking Merlin to his core, how Arthur could flip between petulant arse and heart-wrenching poet in the same moment, and to not only be told that _Arthur had been watching Merlin_ (another thing to ignore for his own sanity), but that Arthur thought him on the level of his knights? Merlin ducked his head, hoping to hide his blush, but he could tell by Arthur’s self-satisfied hum that he didn’t succeed. “So I can rescue the dragon?” 

“ _We_ can rescue the dragon, _Mer_ lin. Warlock or not, you’re still as clumsy as a newborn deer.” Arthur brushed past him, nudging the still-glowing magelights in front of him to guide the way. Merlin allowed himself a moment, a single moment, to despair of Arthur Pendragon and the truly ridiculous feelings he made Merlin suffer through, and then followed his Prince deeper into the caves. 

It was rather satisfying to know that, not only was he right in assuming the shadows were magic-induced, but he was stronger than whatever low-grade warlock had put them in place. The rest of the cave system, while still dark, was easily navigated, particularly since Merlin was free to announce that his magic allowed him to spy the correct way and Arthur couldn’t doubt him for once. That didn’t stop him, of course, but it meant that Arthur looked the fool instead of Merlin, which was always a delight. 

The two emerged into the largest opening they’d found so far, taller and wider than all the rest. There was the distinct smell of burnt meat in the air, and the ground was littered with bones. Fairly fresh ones, too, which gave Merlin hope that this really was just a temporary stay. Right in the middle of the bones and singed carcasses was the dragon. By the villagers’ accounts, Merlin had been expecting a large beast on the level of Kilgharrah, something grand and awe-inspiring. Not that this dragon wasn’t awe-inspiring—it was still clearly a dragon, after all—but it was a bit… 

“Why is this dragon so small?” Arthur whispered to Merlin, right into the shell of his ear. Merlin gave an involuntary shiver at the sensation, fighting to not lean into the warm presence at his side. 

“I have no idea,” Merlin whispered back, hoping his voice didn’t give him away, “I’ve not actually met many dragons, you know.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes, as if Merlin was being purposely difficult. “Should we say hello?” 

“No need, gentlemen, I can hear you just fine.” 

Merlin looked back to the dragon, who he’d been so sure was asleep, but its golden eyes were wide open, staring at them with unabashed curiosity and not a trace of fear. Shrugging off Arthur’s hand, which had grabbed Merlin’s arm when the dragon spoke, Merlin strode forward, head high and shoulders back, hoping he projected _strong powerful dragonlord_ and not _holy shit another dragon that isn’t trying to kill me holy fuck_ because that would be embarrassing. The dragon watched him with something like amusement, drawing itself up too. It actually wasn’t all that small, Merlin realised, just smaller than Kilgharrah, and its scales really were midnight-like. A deep blue that was almost black, shimmering slightly with the reflection of Merlin’s magelights following dutifully behind him. He was glad to realise one had stayed back with Arthur, then wondered if his lights had developed sentience when he wasn’t looking. He shook the thought off, looking up to the dragon and feeling rightfully scared. 

In a roundabout way though, he wasn’t really scared at all. This dragon clearly meant no real harm, and although surprised to see him, it hadn’t torched him yet, so maybe he could negotiate. “My name is Merlin,” he said, figuring it was as good a place as any to start, “and I am the last dragonlord. I mean you no harm, I promise you.” 

The dragon eyed him, still amused, with that same air of importance that Kilgharrah had, but lessened somewhat; whether by being smaller or having to resort to stealing food from farmers to survive, Merlin wasn’t sure. He struggled not to fidget under the contemplative gaze, and then not to sigh in relief when it looked to Arthur. “And you, future king? Do you mean me harm?” 

Merlin hadn’t realised how light the dragon’s voice sounded, much more feminine than Kilgharrah's. He didn’t actually know how one could tell the difference between male and female dragons, and felt it would be rude to ask. When he looked back at Arthur, he could see a debate going on in the Prince’s head, whether to concede to being defenceless or to stand his ground. Not that Arthur would ever be defenceless with Merlin around, and maybe Arthur had the same thought, because he looked at Merlin quickly before saying “No, my lady, no harm will come to you from me.” 

_My lady_ , Merlin thought with a silent laugh. Trust Arthur to try and retain propriety at a time like this. The dragon frowned at the title, but turned away nonetheless, seemingly content with Arthur’s response. With eyes back on Merlin, the dragon heaved a weary sigh. “So what is it you wish, little dragonlord? Power? Gold? Revenge? You are not the first to ask it of me, nor will you be the last. Make it quick, if you please, I have other things to attend.” 

“None of that, actually,” Merlin said. “The King has ordered his knights retrieve your head, in recompense for the destruction you wrought, and he won’t give up easily. I want you to fly as far away as you can get so the world does not lose another dragon. But you must leave now. Immediately.” 

“Your father wishes me dead?” The dragon addressed Arthur, who nodded, face twisted in shame. It was an odd look for certain, one Merlin wanted to wipe away with reassurances he couldn’t give. “I would leave if I could, little dragonlord, but some over-ambitious fellow of yours decided he wanted my power, and has stuck me here.” The dragon shook her head, rattling a collar and chain that was snapped shut around her neck. 

Merlin found that familiar surge of fury, the same as earlier, and with a muttered word, the chain around the dragon’s neck shattered into a million shards of metal. He saw Arthur jolt a bit in his peripheral vision, and the dragon gave a delighted, rumbling laugh, standing to her full height and stretching out until her wings brushed the cave’s ceiling. She looked down at Merlin and said solemnly “I will do as you wish, little dragonlord, for you have saved me this day. If ever you need assistance, call for Yvenna and I will answer.” 

“Thank you, Yvenna,” Merlin said, grinning from ear to ear. The dragon nodded, to Merlin and then to Arthur, and headed down a large passageway behind her, likely the way she got in. 

When the beat of wings reached them, making it clear Yvenna’s escape had been made, Merlin finally relaxed, feeling abnormally exhausted for just a bit of walking and talking. He turned back to find Arthur watching him, and was sharply reminded of just how much they still had to talk about. 

The silence between them stretched to uncomfortable, their gazes hesitant but locked. Arthur was the first to break. “That was an impressive display of magic,” he said, with what sounded like genuine pride. Merlin beamed again, absurdly happy that he’d impressed his Prince, but the moment was ruined when Arthur added with a cheeky grin “ _Little_ dragonlord.” 

Now _that_ , Merlin knew, he was never going to live down. 

They left the way they came in, side by side this time, the silence more comfortable and contemplative. Merlin was reasonably sure that Arthur meant him no harm (though he had a feeling his chores would be even worse for a few weeks as punishment), and was probably looking for a way to bring up the many, many things they still had to discuss. 

“What happens now?” Merlin asked as they stepped from the cave. He knew that Arthur could take forever to get his thoughts in order sometimes, and there wasn’t exactly a best way for this conversation to go. 

Arthur scowled a little, probably put out that his deep thinking had been interrupted, but answered anyway. “Now, we go back to Camelot, set out again with the knights, find the cave dragon-less, and tell my father the beast ran away after taking its fill. We help the villagers however we can, and if we’re lucky we might catch the other little sorcerer that likely wanted the dragon for more nefarious purposes than you.” 

_He makes it sound so easy_ , Merlin thought. “Are you sure the King will buy that? What if he makes you hunt it across all of Albion?” 

“He wouldn’t risk open war with the other kingdoms just for one dragon,” Arthur said, although Merlin thought he didn’t seem certain. One could never be certain where Uther was concerned, the man was crazy on his best days. To say so out loud would be far too treasonous for Arthur to let slide, though, so Merlin kept that thought to himself.

“Let’s hope you’re right, Sire,” Merlin said instead, and indulged himself by thinking Arthur looked grateful. 

They were only a few hours out of Camelot, a fairly quick trip on horseback, and there were two horses in the clearing where Merlin had left his mare earlier. He recognised Arthur’s stallion, looking regal despite being surrounded by daisies, and felt almost embarrassed that Arthur had followed him so easily and completely without being detected, even though Merlin had magic and should therefore technically have the upper hand. He knew better than to think that was true, however, and simply ignored Arthur’s pointed look, as though the Prince had been thinking the same thing. He climbed up on his horse, watched Arthur do the same, and then followed the path his magic gave him, guided by the magelights that hovered over them. 

For once, Arthur let Merlin take the lead without complaint, probably still overthinking. It made things easier for Merlin, but he missed the chance to watch Arthur’s profile, the way his hair glowed gold in the light. Rides through the forest were the perfect times for Merlin to let his mind wander a bit, the way it couldn’t when he was in Arthur's line of sight. His favourite had always been imagining revealing his magic, both to ward off the nightmares and the awful worry that plagued him, although it never went quite like this. Well, technically Arthur already knew (since the Great Dragon? How had Arthur kept quiet about it for so long?) but Merlin had always hoped to do it in a grand gesture of loyalty, like rescuing him from the clutches of some terrible foe. Not that he wanted Arthur in danger, obviously, although Arthur was in danger _all the bloody time._ He just thought it would be more impressive that way. He should’ve known it would be more along the lines of almost blowing the Prince up because he couldn’t handle his emotions. 

Lost in thought as he was, he didn’t realise Arthur was trying to get his attention until the Prince was almost pulling him from the saddle, bringing him back only to shove him off again. “Come on, _Mer_ lin, wake up. Can’t be falling asleep yet, there’s things we need to talk about.” 

“‘M not sleeping,” Merlin grumbled, shoving back at Arthur and almost losing his balance again. 

Arthur grinned at him, but it seemed tense, and Merlin wondered just how much the magic bothered him. He had known Arthur was lying, or at least not telling the complete truth, but he had also hoped that maybe it was closer to the truth than Merlin was fearing. Maybe not, then. 

Merlin opened his mouth, wanting to ask or maybe reassure, but Arthur beat him to it. “Don’t you trust me?” he asked, then looked surprised that he did. 

“Of course I do, Arthur,” Merlin said after a moment. He tried to catch Arthur’s eye, but the Prince refused to look at him. “It was never about trust.” Merlin added softly. 

“What was it about then?” 

Oh, where to start, Merlin thought. How about the fact that his very first day in Camelot, he witnessed a sorcerer’s execution, and then Uther immediately called for a celebration. That’s the kind of thing that sticks with you, you know? “This is your kingdom, and here magic is illegal. The punishment for using magic, for being magic, is death.” 

“I would never have you killed, Merlin.” Arthur said, quiet but fierce, looking up at Merlin earnestly. 

“I never really thought you would.” Merlin lied. He’d definitely thought it at one point, and wasn’t entirely sure that he didn’t still. “But your father wouldn’t hesitate.” This one he was positive about. 

“I am _not_ my father.” 

The snapped reply was a surprise, made him wonder if Arthur’s opinion of his father was not as high as Merlin thought. “No,” he said carefully, “but you are his son. And I never wanted to put you in a position where you might have to choose.” 

Arthur watched him for a moment, eyes narrowed, before his face fell worryingly blank. “You think I would choose him over you.” 

Wouldn’t you? Haven’t you already? Of course, when Merlin was dying, Arthur chose to save him against his father’s wishes. But Merlin’s magic is far different than Merlin’s life, as least as far as anyone non-magic would be concerned. “I don’t really know what you’d do. I don’t like to think about it, and hopefully it never comes to that. If I had it my way, it never would’ve mattered.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Shit. 

“You mean you never would’ve told me?” Arthur asked, still with that blank face that made shivers run up Merlin’s spine. 

“Well, your father won’t live forever.” _Fuck_. 

Merlin felt certain he had earned himself a smack upside the head with that one, so it surprised him (for a fourth time that night — at this rate Arthur was going to give him a heart attack) when Arthur’s face cleared and he said, “You’re right.” 

“I am?” 

“Yes.” Arthur nodded, but didn’t elaborate, and instead nudged his horse to move past Merlin’s and take the lead once again. 

They didn’t talk all the way back to Camelot, Arthur clearly deep in thought again, and Merlin too nervous to try and draw him out of it. He was still reasonably confident that Arthur would keep his secret, but he wasn’t so sure that Arthur would actually want to talk to him ever again. He couldn’t even be mad about it, although really, there was very little that could make Merlin truly mad at Arthur. Irritated or upset, sure. Frustrated, only all the bloody time. But mad? 

When they reached the citadel, it was just after sunrise, which meant they had no way to sneak past the guards. Merlin was ready to panic, or even magic them in if Arthur would permit it, but Arthur just rode past the guards with a throw-away comment about “Random late-night patrols, we want to keep the bandits on their toes, don’t we?” and the guards were too surprised to reply with more than a “yes sire, of course sire,” that had Merlin rolling his eyes. 

At the stables, Arthur handed the reigns of his stallion over to Merlin, barely looking at him as he gave his orders. “Just a quick brush down and feed for them both, we’ll be on the road again in a few hours anyway.” Merlin had hoped he’d have a chance to question Arthur, but that was looking less and less likely, and the warm feeling he’d had after they’d sent the dragon off had been replaced by a terrifying void-like cold. 

No, Merlin didn’t think he could be truly mad at Arthur. But it seemed as though the universe wanted to test his theory by pushing him as far as he could go. 

They set out again with the knights while it was still early, making it to the village just after midday, where they rested up and had some lunch before splitting into two groups: one to stay in the village and help with whatever the villagers requested, and the other to venture to the dragon cave on foot. Arthur ordered Merlin to stay behind, which was unusual enough that the knights noticed, sharing raised eyebrows that clearly said _what’s the boy done now?_ Merlin bristled, wanting to argue it out, except Arthur wasn’t smirking or scowling or avoiding his eye. In fact, he was looking at Merlin almost pleadingly, if Arthur had ever been one to plead instead of demand, which gave Merlin no choice but to agree. 

So Merlin stayed behind despite every instinct telling him not to, watched Arthur and his entourage enter the forest with swords drawn, and spent the hours-long wait tending the horses, carrying wood and tools, and preparing dinner with the lovely couple who ran the inn together. It was well after dark when they finally returned, all fifteen of them bruised and bloodied and a choice few limping. 

Arthur was limping, because of course he was, and he was doing so on his own, because of course he made sure that the other men were tended to first, and Merlin felt his heart swell in the same moment it stuttered in fear. He greeted Arthur with far more yelling then was appropriate for a servant towards his injured sire, but Arthur just looked at Merlin fondly, throwing him completely off balance as he tried to bandage Arthur up. 

They spent the night in the village, Arthur and Merlin returning to Camelot the next day with all other injured parties, which still left twenty knights to help the village. Upon their return, Arthur tried to send Merlin away, but Merlin wasn’t having it this time. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Arthur, you can’t make it all the way up to your chambers limping like that,” Merlin snapped, earning himself a fond chuckle and a surprisingly gentle cuff upside the head. 

“You should learn some manners, Merlin, before you offend a more sensitive soul.” 

“Are you not talking about yourself there?” 

Arthur shoved him into a wall, laughing as Merlin got tangled up in a tapestry, and Merlin felt himself relax again for the first time since the dragon. 

They still hadn’t talked, though, and Merlin was trying to find a good way to phrase his question without sounding like a knob. Arthur would say that he’ll sound like one no matter what, so maybe he shouldn’t bother, but this would be a very important conversation that he wanted to go well, hopefully with as few tears as possible. 

Outside Arthur’s chambers, Gaius was already waiting with his medical basket, which he passed off to Merlin despite Arthur’s protests, barely taking the time to say hello before rushing off to deal with his influx of patients. Seeing Gaius made Merlin remember that he should probably mention Arthur knowing about the magic, but maybe at a less stressful time. He didn’t want to give the man a heart attack, after all. 

He ushered Arthur into the room, forcing him onto the bed so he could remove the bandages and fix the wounds. Nothing required stitches, fortunately, just some deeper cleaning and salve, and to be wrapped in fresh bandages. Arthur was worryingly silent the entire time, simply watching Merlin’s hands as he worked. Merlin remembered the dragon’s cave, Arthur with the same look in his eyes as he said _I’ve been watching you a long time, Merlin,_ and a shiver ran down his spine. 

Arthur noticed, his eyes darting up the Merlin’s face. He licked his lips, opened his mouth, frowned, closed it again, before taking a breath and saying “Are we okay, Merlin?” 

Merlin would have to seriously rethink his theory about not getting mad at Arthur. 

“Okay?” 

“Yes, are we… that is, I know that me knowing about your magic might change some parts of our relationship, but I didn’t think it would be anything very serious. You’ve been distant, and—”

“ _I’ve_ been distant?” 

“Distant, quiet, unfocused—well, you don’t ever really focus, but you certainly aren’t quiet, and I’m—” 

“You think this is my fault?” 

“I… what?” 

They stared at each other, both frowning. Merlin took a deep breath before saying “Arthur, _you’re_ the one who’s been avoiding _me_.” 

Predictably, Arthur scoffed. “I have not.” But he wouldn’t look at Merlin, refused to let him catch his eye, instead smoothing his hands over the bedclothes in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. 

Merlin sat down next to the Prince, hesitantly grabbing Arthur’s nervous hands. “Arthur,” he said, soft but imploring, and Arthur sighed heavily. 

“I don’t know what I would do if it were you brought before my father,” Arthur whispered, “but I know that I could not sit by while you burn.” He squeezed Merlin’s hands tightly, almost painfully, and when he finally met Merlin’s eyes, there was that fierce protectiveness that Merlin had fallen in love with years ago, the kind that promised painful vengeance on any who might hurt those the Prince loved. “I meant what I said — I’ll not see you killed, Merlin. Not ever.” 

And then Arthur kissed him. 

And Merlin, like an idiot, froze. 

Arthur pulled back, eyes wide and scared, and Merlin could almost see the gates slamming down, refusing to be vulnerable in any way, shape or form. He could see Arthur laughing it off, or shoving Merlin away, refusing to ever bring it up again. He might even try and release Merlin from service, and that certainly wouldn’t do. 

Behind Arthur, the fireplace exploded into flames as Merlin launched himself into Arthur’s lap, muffling Arthur’s shout with his mouth. He wrapped his arms around Arthur’s shoulders, his knees bracketing Arthur’s waist, trapping the Prince in his embrace, but by Arthur’s enthusiastic response, he didn’t mind in the least. 

It felt like hours before they broke apart for air, only shifting the barest amount, so their foreheads were pressed together and their noses aligned perfectly, breathing each other’s gasping breaths as they clung on tightly. Merlin was the first to speak, brushing Arthur’s lips with his own as he murmured “I’ll never see you dead either, my Prince. I’d kill every man in the world before I let you come to harm.” 

Inexplicably, this made Arthur grin, and he gave Merlin another open-mouthed kiss, apparently intent on sucking Merlin’s soul out through his tongue. “Does that mean I’d have to kill every woman for you?” Arthur finally responded, while Merlin was gasping again. 

“I wouldn’t ask you to, I know you don’t like to fight women.” 

“How noble of you,” Arthur murmured. 

They fell silent again, simply breathing each other in. Arthur’s thumbs were rubbing little circles just below Merlin’s ribs, and Merlin was brushing his fingers through Arthur’s hair. The fire was crackling merrily behind them, and finally, _finally_ , Merlin felt completely safe and at home. 

“The answer to your question is yes, by the way,” Merlin said, his words pressed against Arthur’s top lip. Arthur hummed his confusion, the vibration passing to Merlin’s mouth and making him giggle. “We are absolutely okay.” 

There was still more they had to discuss, the least of which was the Great Dragon that had started it all, but Merlin had confessed all three of his secrets (well, he'd confessed two of them, but he imagined that Arthur knew what the third was anyway) and Arthur had only brought him that much closer. They'd be okay, Merlin knew. They couldn't be anything but.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> a) When writing this, I completely forgot that Morgana got kidnapped immediately before the dragon attacked, but couldn't be bothered to fix it, so I'm going to keep pretending that didn't happen and that she's perfectly safe and happy somewhere in the castle with Gwen, because it's what she deserves  
> b) The title comes from a quote I read somewhere, but I can't for the life of me remember what it's from
> 
> Hi! Thanks for reading my third published fanfic! I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think? (Or don't, no pressure.)


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